A Christmas Story
by RSummers
Summary: The events leading up to and occurring at Slughorn's Christmas party--with a twist. Sixth year. Lots of pairings. All the major characters. Rated M for language, drug use, and sexual content. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

_Stay calm._

This is my mantra as I wait nervously in the Slytherin room, legs crossed at an awkward angle. Several of the green-clad Slytherin students eye me suspiciously, wondering at the presence of a Gryffindor in their midst. Not one has come forth so far to ask me about my business here, however.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" Malfoy's voice drifts over to me, his tone harsh. I swivel around instantly. He's coming down the stairs, accompanied by a sneering Pansy Parkinson.

_Stay calm._

"I need to talk to you," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady. Now absolutely _everyone _is staring. The inhabitants of the painting nearest me, a group of sour-faced witches huddled around a bubbling cauldron, nudge each other meaningfully and raise their eyebrows.

"Anything you need to say to me can be said right here, Granger," Malfoy says lazily.

"It can't, actually."

"Oh, please," Pansy scoffs, her eyes practically bulging from their sockets. "You really think he's going to go anywhere alone with _you_?"

My face flushes as several members of the ever-growing audience to our conversation snicker amongst themselves.

"Go fuck yourself, Parkinson," I hiss, to delighted tittering from the witches in the painting.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Pansy teases, unruffled. "How about McGonagall's ass?"

"Enough," Malfoy holds up his hand to silence Pansy. She stops, looking offended.

"Fine. Outside. In the corridor. But this had better be good, Granger." He eyes me speculatively. "Actually, forget the corridor. Come up to the dorms. That way, if you don't have anything useful to say, we can give you a little taste of what we do to people who waste our time."

I get to my feet, feeling far more uncomfortable and scared than I had been while I was waiting for him, and follow him up the staircase to the dorms. It's a little eerie how similar the layout of the place is to Gryffindor, but reassuring, at the same time. I clutch my wand tightly, keeping it out of sight.

As we step over the threshold, into the sixth year boys' dorm, my heart speeds up. So this is it. He shuts the door behind us, and suddenly, my heart stops beating altogether.

"Alright, Granger. Spit it out, whatever it is. And I mean it--this had better be worth my time."

I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Well, I--it's sort of--you know about Slughorn's Christmas party, right?"

He scowls. "Wasn't invited."

"Do you want to be?" I ask timidly. _There. It's out._

For the first time, the sneer characteristic of Malfoy was wiped off his face and replaced by a look of incredulity.

"What the fuck, Granger?"

"Well, I know you sort of wanted to go--"

"Spend my Christmas with prissy little Mudbloods and ass-kissing blood traitors? No, thanks." Malfoy spoke sharply. For a moment, it was sort of hard not to smile. Despite his dismissive tone, it was totally and completely obvious that Malfoy felt snubbed by the lack of an invite.

"Spend it--ruining Ron Weasley?" The words slip out before I can help myself.

Malfoy raises an eyebrow, still incredulous. "I'm listening. But what gives, Granger? I thought the two of you would be stumbling down the aisle any day now."

"He's dating Lavender," I say as nonchalantly as possible, but a trace of bitterness in my voice gave me away. Malfoy smirks.

"And you're jealous?" He asks gleefully.

"Hardly," I scoff, my voice going higher and higher. Then I realize that lying to Malfoy gets me nowhere. After all, if I wasn't jealous, what reason did I have for being here?

"Alright, well, yes, maybe a little," I admit. Malfoy looks shocked for a moment, but then his face breaks out into an enormous grin.

"Don't say anything," I rush to say, blushing. "Really, it's awful enough admitting it to you. You're the first person I've told."

To my surprise, Malfoy keeps quiet, though the grin stays in place. I take a moment to collect my thoughts. This is all too crazy. Here I am, talking with Draco Malfoy in his dormitory, a conversation I spent half an hour primping for. Ginny, sympathetic to my anti-Ron aims, despite loathing Malfoy, had helped me, even loaning me her favorite cropped black velvet jacket, which, she had told me with a sigh, she had been planning to wear to the party tonight. My hair was still a little damp from my shower, my jeans were uncomfortably tight, and I had even applied a little lip gloss.

It was all too ridiculous. Here I was, with cotton mouth and overly shiny lips, about to ask out Draco Malfoy.

"So, like I said," I clear my throat awkwardly. "The party--Slughorn's Christmas party--is tonight--and, well--because of Ron, who's, he's going with Lavender, well, I--"

"I get it, Granger." Malfoy says impatiently. "Weasley is with your slut of a housemate, you're jealous as hell. So, did you come here to talk about your feelings for him or what? Where exactly do I factor into this equation?"

I take a deep breath. "Well, I--want to make him jealous."

"You could always get with Potter," Malfoy suggests, already bored with the conversation.

"_Harry," _I correct half-heartedly, "Would never agree to it. I need someone who hates Ron. Who Ron hates. That's the person I need to take to Slughorn's Christmas party."

Comprehension dawns on Malfoy's face. Mingled with disbelief and what looks like horror. I start to sway in place, and pray my legs don't give way beneath me due to this utter mortification.

_Do not faint. Do not faint._

"Granger," Malfoy hisses in an incredulous voice barely above a whisper. _"Are you asking me to be your _date?"

"Um--uh-huh. Yeah."

_Do. Not. Faint._

The look of disbelief is frozen on Malfoy's handsome, pointed face. He doesn't appear to be breathing. I actually find I'm getting a little worried about him. Who knows, maybe he's going into shock. I wrack my brain for some sort of quick cure, but, thankfully, he snaps out of it.

"Absolutely not," he snaps. "You're fucking insane, you know that, Granger? You really think I'd date you just to make Weasley jealous? You really _are _insane."

I feel like I should mention that we'd only be together for a few hours, but it's too late. My whole face is turning red, and I feel like I could cry. Stupid, stupid. How idiotic am I, putting myself in a position where I'm being rejected by Draco-fucking-Malfoy after spilling my innermost feelings to him?

Malfoy's right. I really _must _be insane.

Determined not to cry in front of Malfoy--not from the rejection, of course, but from the total embarassment of it all, at my own _idiocy _for even trying this--I turn and blindly stumble down the staircase into the common room. I don't hear any footsteps behind me. When I emerge into the common room, several students look up, their faces bright with curiosity. I shove past a burly fifth-year and throw the door open, racing down the corridor.

Once I've turned a few corners, I slow to a walk. I don't want McGonagall or someone seeing me speeding through the hallways, knocking little first-years right and left. I turn another corner, and bump right into a tall, burly boy. I take a hurried step back and see who it is.

"Oh, sorry, Cormac," I mutter apologetically to the Gryffindor seventh-year.

"It's fine," Cormac McLaggen shrugs dismissively. Then he narrows his eyes at me. "Hey, you going to Slughorn's party tonight?"

"Maybe," I say gloomily. There's not much point, now. I'm not at all in the mood to watch Lavender shove her tongue down Won-Won's throat all night. Not when I could be getting homework done.

"You should definitely come," Cormac says enthusiastically. "It's going to be fucking awesome. Old man told me he's getting a keg. Hey--you won't tell anyone, though, will you?" He says, suddenly nervous that he's fed too much illicit information to me, the goody-two-shoes know-it-all. The girl who never gets the boy. Unless--

"Oh, of course not, Cormac," I say sweetly. "But listen, I have an idea. Are you going with anyone?"

It's ridiculously bold of me. We've only spoken once or twice before, and besides, he's a seventh-year. But if it helps me get back at Ron, well, it'll be worth it.

"To Slughorn's party? Uh, no." He says, looking confused. Then he catches on. "Uh, hey, you wanna go with me?"

"I'd love to," I say, keeping the fake smile plastered on my face. _Yes! Score! _"How about you meet me in the common room at, oh, say, eight?"

"Sure thing," Cormac winks roguishly at me. "Can't wait." And he hurries on down the corridor.

_Oh no, Cormac, _I think, unable to keep a grin of anticipation from spreading over my face, I _can't wait._


	2. Chapter 2

"Psyched for the party?" I ask Ron with some trepidation. He was lying on his back on his unmade bed, clothes rumpled and hair uncombed, smoking a joint. He definitely didn't look like someone who planned on having a good time.

"I don't know, mate," Ron shrugs, removing the joint from his mouth and looking at it in disdain.

"I can't see why you smoke that shit." I mutter, almost to myself, as he puts the joint back in his mouth and resumes puffing away.

"There's no way I can spend another evening with Lavender if I'm in a state of complete sobriety," Ron says reasonably.

"Man, when are you just going to break up with her already?" I ask, exasperated. "Maybe then Hermione might actually deign to speak to you again."

"Her problem, not mine," Ron says fiercely between puffs. "And I wish I could, mate, but--Jesus, everytime I hint that I want to end it--she just won't let it go! Women, man. They're fucking suffocating."

"Well, there's no way you're missing the party." I state firmly. "Not after I asked Slughorn if you could come. It would be rude not to go."

"Think he might say I can't bring Lavender?" Ron asks, his slightly dazed blue eyes suddenly hopeful.

"Nah, he said you could bring a date."

"Oh." Ron says, looking crestfallen. "You got a date, then?"

"Nah."

"What the fuck?" Ron sits up abruptly. "You're the Chosen One, and you _haven't got a date?"_

I groan. The title 'Chosen One,' though somewhat lacking in sex appeal, had granted me enormous popularity with the girls of Hogwarts. I had already been asked to the party by six girls, none of whom interested me in the slightest. I had never had much experience in turning girls down before, and I wasn't glad for the sudden opportunity to gain some. Ron, however, found it absolutely hilarious.

"I mean it, Harry," Ron says stubbornly. "You should take someone--a girl--to that party."

"Even if I was going to take a girl, you know you'd still have to go to the party." I warn. "You're not getting out of this."

"Fine. But seriously, mate, you could have anyone you liked. _Anyone._ I can't believe you're just, like, fucking wasting this." Ron shakes his head in disbelief.

The truth is, there _is _a girl I'm dying to take to Slughorn's stupid party. A certain beautiful redheaded girl, with a wicked smile and big brown eyes.

She also happens to be Ron's younger sister.

"Hey, man," Ron reasons. "You could at least ask some Gryffindor we both know. Katie Bell, or something. Katie's pretty hot. And then you wouldn't have to worry about other girls bugging you, getting up in your face, going, "Oh, pick me, Harry, pick me!"

As much as I'd rather not take anyone but Ginny to the party, I have to admit that Ron has a bit of a point. I would give anything to get the crowds of giggling, airheaded girls to stay their distance. Maybe making them think I had a girlfriend wasn't such a bad idea.

"Fine. But I'm not taking Katie Bell. I think she has a boyfriend. And I don't want to take Parvati, either," I say hurriedly as Ron starts to open his mouth, then closes it again, looking disgruntled.

"Fine, then. Just go down to the common room and have a look around." He inhales the smoke from the joint deeply. "And tell me if--Lavender's down there. Don't tell her where I am. And then come back up and report on what babe you're taking to the party."

"She probably won't be a babe," I caution.

"So long as you don't pick a real troll."

I shake my head, laughing, as I leave Ron behind, sprawled out on the bed again, blowing smoke rings. As I walk slowly down the stairs, I wonder if I should have changed into something nicer than a green sweater and jeans. But then again, I'm just asking a girl to go to a party, not proposing.

As I step into the common room, I'm surprised to see Luna Lovegood, deep in conversation with Ginny by the fire. I'd never seen Luna, a Ravenclaw, in the Gryffindor common room before.

"Hi, Harry!" She calls out cheerfully, waving. She's wearing several large, ostentatiously ugly rings on the fingers of her right hand.

"Hey, Harry." Ginny smiles at me. My heart stops. That smile. Those eyes.

"Hey," I reply quickly, my voice coming out unnaturally high. I look around to see if anyone's noticed. No one has, but I note that several of the guys in the common room are eyeing Ginny with undisguised lust. I want to jinx them all.

_Whoa, boy. She's still with Dean, remember? She's--taken._

Ginny and Luna have resumed their conversation, and I edge closer to hear what they're saying, feigning interest in the snow fight occurring outside the windoe nearest them.

"I feel like I should break up with him," Ginny was whispering. "But it just seems too mean, right before the party. And it's _Christmas._"

I'm on fire. An endless row of exclamation points sounds off in my head. _Ginny wants to break up with Dean!_

"Oh, I think it's nice," Luna is saying dreamily. "I mean, think about it. It's Christmas! I can't imagine not being happy on Christmas Eve...he probably has presents to wrap, besides. Although if you're doing a holiday thing, maybe you could break up with him on New Year's. And then he could start over in the New Year." Luna says thoughtfully. I have to struggle not to laugh. It's well-known that Luna's mind is permanently fucked up, because of all the prescription drugs she abused after her mom died. But she's always so happy and dreamy, it's easy to like her. She looks kind of cute tonight, too, with a festive red knit cap perched atop her straggly dirty-blonde hair.

Ginny is talking again. I refocus.

"I just don't know. Maybe I should do it after the party? I just don't feel like I can wait any longer." She looks so sad and torn, sitting there, her pale little face scrunched up in frustration and her pretty bright brown eyes big and sad, that I have to pinch myself to keep from hugging her.

"Oh, maybe you should wait." Luna says sweetly. "And then you'll still have a date to the party. It sounds like so much fun. I'd love to go."

"I'll take you to the party, then, as my date," Ginny promises. "We'll have an amazing time. Slughorn's getting a keg."

I grimace at the prospect of Ron seeing Ginny under the influence of firewhiskey, and move in a little closer.

"Oh, no," Luna protests. "That's so nice of you. But you should go with Dean. Your aura suggests that such action can only lead to a solution."

Sometimes I have no idea what the fuck Luna is saying.

"I'd much rather go with you, though," Ginny grumbles. "Dean's been being such a dick lately. Without you there at the party for moral support, I'll never be able to break up with him. At least, not in a nice way." Luna pats Ginny's shoulder with a sympathetic frown, her eyes glazed over.

Then, a sudden idea comes over me. It's like all the puzzle pieces are clicking together.

"Hey, Luna," I say, suddenly turning to her. "Do you want to go to Slughorn's party with me?"

Luna's enormous pale eyes nearly bulge out of her skull. "Slughorn's party?" She repeats in a soft little voice. "With you?"

Ginny looks shocked.

"Well, yeah. I kind of need a date. It's just--as friends, though. Just friends, you know. You don't have to if you don't want to." I'm already regretting my impulse move.

"No, I'd love to," Luna says suddenly, smiling brightly, showing two rows of gleaming white teeth. "Did you hear--there's going to be a keg! With drinks! That's what Ginny said. Oh, thank you. You're so nice." She smiled up at me.

Ginny, on the other hand, looks a little pissed off. I'm confused. I figured that if I invited Luna, Ginny would be able to use her as "moral support" at the party, and dump Dean. And then--then, there could _really _be a party.

So why was she looking so furious?

Oh. Then I got it. Maybe she suspected I had been eavesdropping. My face turned bright red. I had to correct my mistake.

"I don't know, maybe it seems weird to just ask out of the blue," I say loudly, feeling like a retard. "But I came down here looking for a date, and I was feeling kind of stupid, and looking out the window, and then I thought, hey, well, Luna's here. But I wasn't sure if you were already going. But then I heard you talking about Slughorn's party, and, well, you know."

Okay, that was definitely not a good way to correct my mistake. Ginny looked absolutely livid now.

"Yeah, we know," Ginny snaps, her bright brown eyes blazing like hot coals. "Come on, Luna." She tugs on her friend's frail wrist. "Let's go upstairs and get ready. You can borrow something of mine."

"See you tonight, Harry!" Luna calls out gaily as Ginny stormed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory with her in tow.

_Ah, shit. _

"Yeah," I mumble under my breath, ignoring the stares of the other curious Gryffindors. "See you tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

"Harry said he didn't have any idea where he was," I grumble to Parvati as we search for appropriate evening wear. "I haven't seen him all day. I think he's avoiding me."

"You always think that," Parvati rolls her eyes.

"Maybe because it's true."

"Or because you're paranoid."

"Ugh!" I throw myself on my bed, burying my face in the pillow and inhaling the slightly musky smell.

Parvati finally looks up from the cropped gray tee she's trying to mend, which exposes about two inches of midriff, which was two too many, and makes her look totally flat-chested. Not that I was going to say anything. Parvati was definitely prettier than me, and anything that was going to tip the odds in my favor was alright with me.

"Seriously, Lav. Maybe you guys should, like, take a break? Ever since you started going out with him, you've been so insecure." She tells me with true sincerity in her voice.

"That's because I think he's just using me to get back at Hermione for going out with Krum," I grumble. "Who is so, like, two years ago. I mean, what the hell? He should be over it by now. He should be over _her _by now. She's not even that pretty."

"Seriously," Parvati agrees, returning to trying to mend the hideous shirt, which she plans to wear with those ripped-up jeans everyone thinks is so sexy now. Lately, Parvati's gone from classy and feminine to--trashy? But I guess it works for her.

"My God, did you see her hair this morning?" I say, unable to let the subject of Hermione go. "It was, like, afro-esque." I lovingly stroke my own long, sleek blonde hair. "I don't know why she lets it get like that."

"Totally. And you know how she got Madam Pomfrey to fix her teeth, like, last year, when she used to be all buck-toothed and gross? Well, I heard she's going to ask her to fix her _boobs_."

"Seriously?" I squeal, delighted with this new piece of information. "Like, to make them bigger?"

"I heard she was going to do a curse on herself, to make them swell up like balloons," Parvati whispers with mingled disgust and excitement. "And then go to Pomfrey and be like, oh, help me, my boobs are too big. But when Pomfrey shrunk them, she'd stop her, like, waaay too early. That way she'd go from an A-cup to a B-cup. I think she's doing it as, like, her Christmas gift to herself, because she knows nobody else is going to get her anyth--" Parvati froze as Hermione entered the room, eyeing us suspiciously. She was wearing a pair of jeans similar to the ones Parvati was planning on wearing tonight, along with a cropped black velvet jacket over a tight white tee. Her hair was down and fairly unoffensive. It was a very un-Hermione-ish look. Almost sort of kind of--pretty?

Parvati recovers first.

"Hey, Hermione," she says sweetly. "We were just talking about Slughorn's party tonight. Are you going?"

"Yeah," Hermione shrugs her jacket off her shoulders and drapes it over her bed. "With Cormac. What about you?"

"Cor-mac?" Parvati sounds out, shocked. I feel my own jaw dropping, too, and snap it shut. _Cormac? _

"Oh, you know, McLaggen." Hermione says in a bored voice. "The seventh year."

"Nice," I say at last, imitating Parvati's faux-sweet voice. "I'm going with Ron, of course."

"Mmmhmm." Hermione doesn't even look at me. I have to resist the urge to slap her. Like she has any right to be a bitch to me, when _I'm _the one going out with Ron, and _she's _the jealous girl who's trying to steal _my _boyfriend. Please. And now she's totally bragging about going with "the seventh year," Cormac McLaggen, when it's so obvious that she's only doing it in a pathetic attempt to make Ron jealous and steal him away from me.

For a prissy little goody-two-shoes, she really was a slut.

"So what are you going to wear?" Parvati asks curiously, looking Hermione over.

"You _are _changing, _right_?" I put in snidely. Hermione ignores me again.

"I have this really cute little golden dress," she says excitedly to Parvati. "It's kind of uncomfortable, but I absolutely love it."

Once again, I feel my mouth fall open. Hermione. In a _dress_? What the fuck was going on here?

"Oh, wow." Parvati stammers. "That's really--wow."

"I know it's kind of out of character," Hermione giggles, a malicious glint in her dark brown eyes. "But it is Christmas, after all. Did you hear Slughorn's going to have a keg?"

WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON HERE?

"Uh, yeah," Parvati says, smiling uncertainly. "It's going to be awesome."

"I kind of have a favor to ask, though," Hermione says, her voice still sweet. "I really need some black tights to wear under my dress. It's just way too short to wear without anything underneath. Do you think you could maybe loan me some?"

"Oh, uh, sure," Parvati mutters, still clearly dazed. "I have some right here." She balls up the sheer black material and tosses it to Hermione.

"Thanks," Hermione giggles again. She really does seem giddy. Maybe she's on something. "So, what are you guys wearing?"

"Not much." Parvati rolls her eyes. "Just jeans. Lavender's going all out, though."

"Oh, really," Hermione turns to me, her gaze suddenly sharp. "How so?"

I square my shoulders. I've thought a lot about this, and, well, after a lot of consideration, I pretty much decided that Ron's the boy I want to lose my virginity to. It was true that we'd only been going out for a month, but I'd been in love with him for, like, a year, and at this rate, sex might be the only thing to keep him from leaving me for Hermione. After all, that little prude probably never would have even gone so far as kissing if that big-nosed Quidditch player hadn't come along in fourth year and swept her off her oversized feet. I had been to this moment undecided as to whether or not I wanted to let Hermione know that I was ready to lose it to Ron. I thought it would be kind of mean, and it was also sort of a private matter. But at that moment, I decided, there would be nothing better or more satisfying than watching that smirk get wiped right off her big ugly face.

"Well, I'm wearing really sexy lingerie," I shrug nonchalantly. "Turquoise, with black lace. Expensive. It fits perfectly. 34B."

Parvati bursts out laughing at my obvious jab at Hermione's impending boob job, but Hermione just stands perfectly still, face frozen into a mask of shock, outrage, and hurt.

It's very rewarding.

"I hope Ron will like it," I continue maliciously. "He told me last week that his favorite color was turquoise, like my eyes. So see, I really got it for him." Of course, Ron hadn't said anything of the sort. But it was the kind of romantic, boyfriend-y thing I _wished _he would say.

Hermione still isn't moving. Parvati looks worried.

"Um, I'm not really wearing very sexy underwear, either, Hermione," she says awkwardly, obviously trying to snap Hermione out of her daze. "Just a black bra and thong. You should definitely go for black, too, in those tights."

Hermione's eyes seem to cloud over for a moment; then, she is herself again, vain and self-righteous and indestructible.

"Oh, I don't know, Parvati," she says in a friendly tone of voice. She turns to me, eyes flashing. "That sounds really cute, Lavender. But I kind of meant, what clothes are you wearing?"

I could send another pointed, poisonous barb flying her way, but since she's showing self-restraint, I decide I can, too. I've already won this round, anyway. So I point silently to the sheer lacy tank top and neatly folded dark-wash low-rise jeans I plan on wearing. I feel a little uncomfortable wearing such a brightly colored bra under the shirt, but it looked sexy when I tried it on earlier. And sexy is definitely what I'm aiming for.

"Adorable," Hermione says in a way that indicates she finds it anything but. She looks absolutely furiously. Abruptly, she turns and begins to walk away, gripping the tights in her hand.

"Hermione?" Parvati calls out, concerned. "Where are you going?"

"To see Ginny," she replies, not turning around. "I need help selecting some 'really sexy lingerie.'" She slams the door shut behind her as she leaves.

Parvati and I exchange shocked glances.

"This is shaping up to be an interesting night," Parvati mutters after a beat. I trace my finger gently along the neckline of the sheer top.

"I'll say."


End file.
